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She was unable to resist leaning into his hands, her own curling into fists at her sides. ‘The last time I kissed anyone I was fifteen. I’ve never had any sex aside from what we just did.’ Anticipation overwhelmed her. ‘I guess now is your chance to do what you want with me.’

‘Or…’ he swept her hair to the side and kissed her shoulder ‘…now is your chance to figure out what you want. What you like. What you need.’ He kissed her mouth again. ‘What gets you off.’

He got her off, it was that simple.

‘I am going to teach you how to use your words, Princess.’

At that she tilted her head to look into his eyes. ‘Don’t call me Princess.’

‘Because?’

‘I don’t deserve the title.’

His lashes lowered and he finally gave her a heavier stroke of his hand down her spine to the curve of her hip. ‘Tell me what you do want.’

Her stomach clenched. This was a side of Alex she couldn’t quite reconcile. Playful, open, considerate. But Tilly didn’t ask for anything. Honestly, she was going to be happy with whatever he did with her right now.

‘Talking can be fun,’ he coaxed, his hands curling into more intimate places. ‘Want me to tell you what I plan to do with you for the rest of the day?’

‘Okay.’ The whisper just slid out.

‘Yeah?’ His grin turned sinful and he stepped away to reach for one of the enormous plush towels and wrapped her in it.

‘Tease,’ she grumbled.

‘See how aggravating it is?’ He didn’t bother with a towel for himself, he just scooped her back into his arms. This time Tilly kept an eye on where they were going.

‘Where is everyone—surely someone is looking after the horses?’ she asked.

‘I sent them away when I saw you walking here.’

She bit her lip. ‘You came after me?’

He arched an eyebrow at her. ‘You know I did. The horses are exercised and resting from the afternoon heat. The grooms will return once we’ve left, but for now no one will disturb us.’

He carried her into a large room where riding equipment hung in pristine rows on the wall—polished leather perfection.

‘I can’t believe you have a chandelier in your tack room.’

The stables were more ornate than his own home. An enormous marble-topped island bench was in the centre and, though there was a deep basin on one side, there was still ample space for him to sit her on the end. He pressed her legs apart and stepped between them, cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes for a long moment. She felt her skin heat at his focus but said nothing.

His smile was slow but he finally bent and kissed her. Even slower, sweeter and not enough already. She slid her hands from his chest to his shoulders and pulled him closer—she needed to feel his body hard against hers again.

‘It’s not enough to touch me, sweetheart, you need to talk to me.’ He grazed his lips down her neck. ‘If you don’t like what I’m doing, tell me. If you do like it, again tell me. If you want faster, softer, harder, tell me. I might be more experienced but I’m not a mind-reader.’

It seemed to her he could do anything and it would feel good. She was molten wax and she just wanted him close, endlessly caressing her like this. But he set his hands on the counter either side of her and watched her, eyebrows lifted.

She sighed. ‘Just touch me.’

He unwrapped her towel, spreading it behind her, then pushed her back until she was lying like a sacrifice on a stone altar. She felt his breath tickle the sensitive skin at the tops of her thighs and her breathing stalled.

‘I’m going to taste you, Tilly.’

Her legs just went lax. She bit her lip, wanting it, but it was so, so intimate. She was shivering with anticipation as he slowly roved, kissing his way up her inner thighs, his hands skating, sending shimmers along her veins.

‘I can feel you getting hotter. Wetter. You want me?’

She lifted her hips to encourage the exquisitely aggravating nibbling. So hot. She was so close she almost squealed—she locked into place, not wanting to move in case he stopped yet inside every tendon, every muscle was quivering—so close to a release she couldn’t cope with.